


The Silent Prostitute

by Oreana



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed Syndicate, F/M, Love, NSFW, Prostitute, Romance, brothel, older! jacob frye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreana/pseuds/Oreana
Summary: [Gift Piece] Jacob frequents the Whitechapel brothel for information on a murder involving one of his own Assassins that a prostitute may have witnessed, but getting her to talk seems to be a problem…





	

**Author's Note:**

> {IMPORTANT: I am afraid that no more Jacob Frye/Assassin's Creed works will come from me having been harassed out of the fandom for nearly half a year. I've lost my drive and passion for it entirely, but I appreciate the support and love that has come from some of my readers. <3 Thank you all for the fun times, but because of the death threats and other absurd comments thrown my way via Tumblr, I'd rather forget about this fandom entirely. Do not expect anymore updates of these stories.}
> 
> {Late birthday gift for my lovely dawnee75. 40 year-old Jacob Frye and brothels seemed ideal for this gift. Hope you enjoy, dearest~.}
> 
> As a note: I do NOT accept these stories as requests. I do accept them as commission types that you are free to ask about!
> 
> Also, the woman found by Jack’s murder spree were the only ‘assumed’ women he murdered. There could have been more he was possibly responsible for.
> 
> Jacob Frye/ Lady Owers: Ubisoft  
> Jack the Ripper & Frederick Abberline: Rather tricky as they are actual figures in history, so I’ll say themselves with respected credits to Ubisoft.  
> Aurore: dawnee75  
> Emmett Frye / writing: Oreana

She had been gutted…butchered…her blood, chilled by the cold air, was glistening within the cracks of the stone streets of London. 

Jacob Frye stood there, bewildered and disgusted at the sight of one of his own underlings lying there with her body torn to pieces as it were. Frederick Abberline’s department had found her, and upon her body exposed, he had sent for Jacob as soon as he was able. The forty-year-old stood to attention, and for once in his life, grabbed his handkerchief to place near his mouth and nose to combat the foul smell as well as still the desire to be ill at the sight. 

“What do you make of it, Sir Frye?” Frederick asked eagerly, motioning down at the woman’s body though being sure to not stir up any evidence that could be nearby. “I sent for you alone, for she was wearing the Assassin mark on her.” It was there, in secret, he passed the Assassin ring to Jacob—being mindful of his own men nearby in the exchange. “Managed to get it off just in time and made sure to keep the reporters at bay.” 

Crumpling the delicate piece of fabric, Jacob sighed through his nostrils as he was finally able to adjust to the sight and smell—becoming numb to it like everything else while accepting the ring and pocketing it quickly out of sight. “It was recent,” he murmured, his voice heavy with upset as the female Assassin was only in her twenties. Her pallid features were merely cold and lifeless now, her black hair dampened by a mixture of the rain hours prior and the blood that soaked from her injuries. How sad to see one as her lying there like some butcher’s leftovers. “Blood still flows…” Jacob paused, swallowed back the pain in his words as he should be used to these things by now, but he had gotten close to his Assassins and Rooks as of late given the only other family he ever knew or had was gone to India. It felt like a part of him was truly ripped from his chest. 

Frederick checked the scene again, moving towards Jacob to be sure his words didn’t carry. The sight was ghastly, and at the same time, it smelt of something an Assassin would do. “Do you know not of who did this?” 

Jacob’s old eyes narrowed at the rather accusing tone, turning to the detective with a shake of his head. “No, but it sounds like you think I should?” His words returned were a bit defensive, prompting Frederick to raise his hand as if to ask for a truce. 

“I merely ask, for this doesn’t look like something a Templar would do,” the detective insisted to Jacob. 

The Master Assassin bared his teeth like a threatened dog as he stared down Frederick. “Are you accusing one of my own for such an act?” The Assassin didn’t want to think it was true…but yet… 

“I have little evidence to say otherwise other than a single blade seems to be responsible for most these wounds,” Frederick went onward to say, eyes shifting about curiously in the thought. “Templars rarely carry blades on them as apposed to Assassins that have **_hidden_** blades.” 

Jacob was in deep thought, eyes staring off at nothing in particular for a moment. He wanted to argue the case further, but now he was beginning to wonder if it was one of his very own. 

Jack… 

Him and Jack the Lad didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on things, and the lad did run off in a rather aggressive huff after a nasty exchange with Emmett, or so Jacob was told. Did Jack really do this? Did he just turn his weapons on his own? Looking at the body once more, Jacob swallowed harshly as he noticed the style of the cuts and how aggressive and almost demented they were towards the thought of motherhood with the woman’s womb nearly removed. 

His hazel eyes searching further, he triggered his eagle vision and noticed the footprints there near the body that seemed to drift off near the nearby archway that led into a fellow alleyway. The steps were met with another pair, and it seemed some struggle had taken place there in the darkness with someone else. 

Had the killer been interrupted? 

“Sir Frye?” Frederick called, hoping to snap Jacob out of his thoughts, but it seemed useless as the man began to hurry onwards to the darkness that was beckoning to him. 

Jacob jogged to something his vision was picking up. From what he could make out against the wall, someone had caught the killer and was grabbed and forced up against the brick formation to where it slightly wounded the head, causing a faint bit of blood to mark the ridges of the structure. Leather palm against the blood, he could tell that too was recent as it faintly rubbed off against his touch. His sights drifted downward then, and upon doing so, Jacob counted his blessings he didn’t destroy the one piece of evidence everyone had overlooked as his foot was inches from it. 

Taking to one knee and pushing back his trench coat, Jacob grabbed up the finely crated hair comb that had been left behind by its mistress. It was a hair ornament like any other, only it was quite ornate and lined with teal gems all across the top of it and even hanging down from the front. “You might want to look at this, Freddie,” beckoned Jacob, causing the detective to come over. 

“What is it? What did you find?” he asked, his voice a bit quickened with excitement only to dull quickly after. “What’s this now? Quite a hair piece your fellow comrade was wearing.” 

“This wasn’t hers,” responded Jacob, motioning to the blood on the wall. “I think someone interrupted our murderer.” 

Frederick studied it further with a raise of his brow. “Only a woman of high class would truly wear such a piece. Either that or a prostitute of some kind possibly wearing it to attract the best money in these parts.” 

“A prostitute then,” spoke Jacob as though he were certain, pocketing the piece of evidence even though he could hear Frederick scoff and huff at the sight. “No woman of high class would be in these parts of Whitechapel unless gassed and there is no smell or sight of such a thing here.” 

Watching Jacob take a few steps forward and away from the scene, Frederick raised his hand and struggled to speak for a moment till it came to him. “And where do you think you’re going with that piece of evidence, Sir Frye?” 

Turning to the detective, Jacob wrinkled his brow with a rather cocky smirk tugging upon the corners of his lips. “To find the woman who wore this and get her to speak, or at the very least, find her body and give her spirit rest.” 

Jacob used his abilities then to climb the stone wall and make it up and upon the main roads of Whitechapel. He didn’t know for certain if the woman was alive or dead, but starting at the local brothel would be the best place to go for now. 

 

 

He had been known to visit the local brothel now and again for information on his targets, so finding the one in Whitechapel wasn’t exactly hard. The only difficulty in it was dealing with its headmistress, Lady Owers. 

The woman had become annoyed at Jacob’s presence lately, and would demand, if he was going to spend so much time in her lobby talking up her women, he would pay to spend time with one of them at least. Sometimes he would pay for their time in regards to information and other times, yes, it was a pleasure visit but rarely. It was quite late, but the brothel still appeared to have its doors open to which Jacob took his opportunity to knock and see if he could be let in for a little bit. 

It did seem, the longer Jacob stood outside in the cold, that the doors weren’t going to open regardless of there being lights in some of the windows, but after a few minutes of waiting and knocking, the front doors did finally open to allow the gentle glow of the brothel to bathe him in a welcoming light. The woman who answered, he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Lady Owers nor any of the other women he used to speak to on occasion. 

The unnamed woman remained hidden by the door partially, her head lowered as her brown eyes peered up through her decorative strawberry blond hair. It was as though she was intimidated by Jacob’s appearance or worried he was to be her first customer. She was possibly new, if that were indeed the case. Given how insecure she was acting and how young she appeared, it was a possibility. “May I help you, sir?” 

How could he put this delicately for someone who was acting so frightened already with him merely breathing before her? Jacob raised his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat delicately. “May I come in, first of all?” he asked, trying to be as gentle as possible. The girl looked young enough to be his own daughter, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart cringe at that thought for one so young. 

Before she could hope to answer, another arm outstretched from the opposite side of the room and pulled the door open a bit more before Jacob found Lady Owers standing there with a rather scolding look to the prostitute there before her. “Get to your room, Opal.” 

Jacob watched the frighten young girl pull away from the door with her hands to her chest as if to apologize for even opening the door before scurrying away. His worrisome look changed to unimpressed as it met with Lady Owers’ rather cold expression. 

“Poor dear is new,” Lady Owers commented rather matter-of-factly, leaning in the doorway with the door resting upon her arm to try and keep Jacob out, it seemed. “It is rather late here, Mr. Frye…what brings you here?” 

His hazel eyes examined her closely, nose turned up at the sight of her off-putting attitude. “I was here to talk to some of your ladies about their whereabouts tonight, madam.” 

“They worked the streets as they are asked to, Mr. Frye,” responded the mistress, as though threatened by that statement. “Is that really any of your business?” 

“It is when somebody close to me is found dead,” answered Jacob just as aggressively in turn. 

Here, Lady Owers straightened up and bit at her tongue as if to find the proper words for the situation. “My apologies for your loss,” she spoke, but the words came out uncaring and cold, “however, it is indeed rather late, and my girls need their rest.” 

“Turn me away if you so wish, Lady Owers, but I will either get my answers tonight or tomorrow morning,” Jacob insisted, hoping to get them sooner than later. 

She seemed to find great joy in that thought for some reason. “If you have the coin to spend your time here, Mr. Frye, you know you’re always welcome. However, it is tomorrow that I will wish you luck on this mission of yours.” Her words felt as slimy and tender as running your hand on a snake’s body and made Jacob feel challenged. “Good evening to you,” she concluded, shutting the door then and the sound of a lock executing could be heard shortly after. 

Jacob’s fists clenched at his sides. “Very well, Ms. Owers,” he grumbled to himself, rolling his shoulders back to pop a few bones into place and fixing his collar as well. “If this is the game you wish to play…” 

Stepping away and heading towards the back of the brothel, Jacob’s eyes scanned the room windows one by one only to find that most of them had gone out. But he waited as he knew Opal had been asked to go to her room earlier, and while he knew not which was hers, all he could do was wait for a light in one of them to be known against the curtains drawn upon the only other entrance he had. 

It took awhile, but in time, on the top floor, a gentle glow lit up the red curtains that were a means to keep the outside world’s eyes away from the scandalous affairs inward. Finding his footing on the building, Jacob quickly scaled upward and found rest upon a small platform jetting out about the brothel. Hood drawn and ears opened to the conversation, Jacob jerked slightly when he heard the door swing open rather violently. 

“What is the matter with you!” Lady Owers’ voice scolded, the sound of frantic scuffling heard in the background as Opal tried to escape her tormentor. “We do not open our doors for **_all_** men at this hour! Is that understood!” 

Opal had found herself cornered against her bed. Arms raised in protection, she trembled in fright as an apology struggled to surface from her lips. “I-I’m sorry, Lady Owers! It-It won’t happen again! I didn’t know who he was!” 

“One of the Queen’s very own,” she hissed vilely, eyes narrowed in disgust at the very thought of mentioning his name, but it had to be done. “Sir Jacob Frye who is a menace when it deals with my girls—!” she paused, turning on her heels and gestured angrily against the dim lighting. “—always asking about information and wasting my time and theirs!” 

Jacob was unfazed by her resentment towards him, his back against the wall still as he raised a simple brow to the woman’s disgust that could easily be heard reverberating against the brick building. Honestly, the petty part of him that was still there even after all these years would still gladly give her hell if he knew it angered the mistress so much. Sadly, he had to remember that the girls’ lives were also in danger, and he couldn’t risk that even for the sake of watching that woman go crazy. 

Opal was quiet, her hand to her chest as her breathing and heart were starting to settle. “But…he said he would be back tomorrow…and Aurore—.” 

“She will not speak to him,” the brothel mistress interrupted, her fingers toying with the idea of a drink before rest as she came upon the expensive wine bottles lined there upon Opal’s small dining table. A sly and wicked smirk crept upon her lips at that thought, her fingers caressing the nearby wine glass with twisted delight in that. “She never speaks to anybody given what a precious import she is.” 

Jacob found that statement odd. Why would she not speak to anybody? Wouldn’t that make her business difficult if unable to work with men vocally? All the same, the way it was phrased made him realize this Aurore was the one he was hunting for, perhaps, but he would need Opal alone to be sure of it. 

Unfortunately for Jacob, he had to wait for the conversation to dwindle down into cares and such that were of little importance to him and his mission till he finally heard Lady Owers take her leave of the room. Using his ability to hone in on sounds and footsteps in the nearby area, he made sure that only one was left in Opal’s room before boldly tapping on the window in hope he could convince her to let him in. 

Opal was startled by the sound and was nearly hesitant at the idea of pulling back the curtains until the sound continued, and it was there she finally relented and did as Jacob was hoping she would do. However, at the sight of him there, her hands moved to her mouth to silence her gasp. “Wh-What are you doing out there, Sir Frye!” she exclaimed as quietly as she could, moving to try and open the window for him. 

As much as she feared Lady Owers, she didn’t wish to dismiss a man that had higher authority than she in this world. 

“Forgive me, Opal,” Jacob apologized, slipping into the room and letting her close the window shortly after. “I will be sure not to get you in trouble by your mistress, but I have important questions to ask of you before you rest tonight.” 

Opal fondled with her gown, motioning to the sitting place in her bedroom. “Umm, sit then…I can…I can pour you a glass of wine, if you like?” 

Jacob raised his hand to resist the thought though willingly taking the seat she offered after moving his trench coat to hang upon the decorative chair’s headrest. “Well, there’s no need to—.” 

“I-It’s alright!” the young woman insisted, hands frantically fumbling about for the glass and the wine bottle together. She had never had any guests as this in her room, and the very thought he may want more than information frightened her. However, in all her fumbling about, she accidentally missed the glass and poured the wine a bit over her dresser and hand, making her nearly drop the bottle in fright of her actions. 

Taking to his feet quickly, Jacob steadied the thought from her and grabbed upon the nearby towel to wipe her hands and help her clean up. “You are indeed new to here,” he said with a disheartening sigh. “How old are you?” 

“Nineteen,” Opal muttered as if worried her customer would find disgust in that. She tried to steady herself in that moment, realizing Jacob was probably just there for something other than sex. “I lost my mother and father to consumption.” Her brown eyes gazed up at Jacob as if to plead for forgiveness in where she was now. “I was picked up by Lady Owers and offered this job here not too long ago, and I’ve yet…to have a customer.” 

Jacob narrowed his eyes at the underlining reason as to why. “You’re a virgin,” he came right out to say, feeling Opal’s hand tighten upon his as if to beg for strength before pulling away from his hold. “She is waiting for a bloke to pay a high price for it.” 

The young girl nodded, not having the courage to look him in the eyes in worry it would show her fear. 

His scoff was silent, but there all the same at the very idea. Any man with the right packet on him would ravage her till she bled—make the experience uncomfortable and painful. Jacob felt pity for her, but all the same, he had to remind himself that was not why he was there. With the wine cleaned up, he motioned back to where he was sitting prior to offer her a chance to sit as well. “Forgive my intrusion, but I have come here to ask you a few things. I will be sure my stay here is unknown, and you will not be in trouble for it.” 

“It is about Aurore, isn’t it?” Opal came right out to say in a rather timid voice, her hands folding upon her lap as she sat opposite of him. 

Jacob could only assume it was so as he leaned forwards as if to ask for more answers. “Who is she?” 

Opal shrugged, brown eyes drifting elsewhere. “I don’t even know her last name, Sir Frye,” she admitted reluctantly. “When I came to the brothel not too long ago, I’ve seen her…tried to talk to her, but she merely smiles and nothing else. Some say she can talk, but she refuses out of worry of…something.” 

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the hair comb he found at the scene of the crime that was committed. Upon seeing it, he noticed Opal’s chest restricted slightly. “Can you tell me anything about this?” 

“That’s hers,” she answered without hesitation, teeth rolling along her bottom lip as if resisting the urge to crack under pressure. But she was young and the title Jacob held made her worry of being in serious trouble with the Queen herself. “She was out tonight with some bloke I know nothing of…only that he comes and does business with Lady Owers now and again, and some…brawl of sorts broke out, and he was wounded and Aurore’s head was injured, and I—.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jacob urged, reaching across the table to try and grab at her arm at least as Opal’s hands were resting in her lap. “Calm down now, love. Who was the chap you said was with her tonight? Do you know his name?”

“I-I think I heard his name was Jack…?” 

Jacob’s heart nearly stopped beating in his chest as his hand upon her arm recoiled almost out of terror of that statement. “Jack..? What did he look like?” 

“Hair was a wavy sort and to his shoulders,” Opal commented, embracing herself as she tried to remember the details. “It was brown in color…eyes were a sort of orange and brown mixture, if I remember right, and he wore rather strange garb beyond the top hat he had on.” 

Jacob brought his hands back before him, they becoming fists in regret and denial that Jack would do such a thing even after his release from the Brotherhood. Eyes closed tightly, he did everything in his power not to falter to his emotions. _Jack…dammit all…why!_ Jacob thought to himself, eyes threatening to line with tears as he had practically raised that boy. 

“Sir Frye? Are you well…?” Opal quietly asked, worrying she may have said the wrong thing. 

Jacob’s voice turned hard and quite cold as he went onward to question the girl. “How often does this lad come here?” His hazel eyes refused to look upon her as he didn’t wish of her to see how vulnerable he was. 

“He frequents Aurore, so she would be best to tell you…if-if she fancies to, that is.” Opal was embarrassed to admit that. “I-I told you before that I am merely new here, sir.” 

“Thank you again, Ms. Opal, for your time,” sighed out Jacob, taking to his feet then and scooping up the comb and his trench coat for the cold night ahead. “I will be back tomorrow then to speak with this Aurore.” Here, he headed to the window and opened his means of an exit once more. “And do not worry,” Jacob continued as he looked to the fretful Opal, “I will not tell Lady Owers of what we spoke of.” 

She brought her hands to her chest, nodding in relief at his promise as she waited for him to leave and then shut and locked the window behind him.

 

\--

 

Jacob did return as promised (much to Lady Owers’ dismay), and as he took to the main lobby, his eyes scanned the scene for this Aurore though he had very little to go on beyond the fact she kept to herself.

 

“If you’re looking for something special and ‘fresh’, Sir Frye,” began Lady Owers from where she was enjoying in a glass of wine in the lobby, “you can always try my latest edition to the family.” Her hands touched upon his shoulders in an eagerness to divert his attention towards the timid Opal sitting upon the decorative loveseat near the center of the room. 

He swallowed back the selfish temptation to merely be Opal’s pleasurable first, hazel eyes shifting to the woman with a wrinkle of his brow at her words. “I fancy the one named Aurore, if you please.” 

Lady Owers laughed quietly at that name. “Whatever for? Heard from the streets what a rare treasure she is?” 

Jacob heard no such words, but in that comment, he baited the woman. “Is she that exotic?” 

The brothel mistress scoffed, pulling away from Jacob. “You have no idea, Sir Frye.” 

As she sauntered away, Jacob thought for sure Lady Owers wasn’t going to allow it, but it was there she snapped over her shoulder for the Assassin to follow her. Following behind the woman, he let her guide him to a door in the back where some of the women’s rooms were resting. “She isn’t out with the others?” he asked curiously. 

“She is not feeling well today,” Lady Owers commented but as she kept her hold on the doorknob, she gave a rather cold glare at Jacob. “This is where I will ask you to keep your little game brief, Sir Frye. Pay for whatever you fancy, and then leave.” 

Jacob kept his expression neutral though business like, allowing the brothel mistress to open the door for him and allow him inside. 

“Aurore, you have a visitor,” Lady Owers called out to the woman resting there upon the decorative bed. The railing was a near glittering gold and the curtains flowed from the top of the headrest, giving it a nice, red veil to accentuate the sheets with their ornate and expensive designs. Plant life was potted on either side of the bed, giving it a rather otherworldly feel and almost making Jacob feel displaced entirely as he ventured closer to the blond haired woman that was resting there on the bed. 

Her blue eyes caught Jacob’s hazel, and it was there he paused in his stride and nearly jumped at the sound of the door harshly closing behind him. Aurore looked at him as though he were mad in his actions, and it was there he raised a hand to explain himself. “Forgive me,” he apologized. “Your eyes are just…” 

Aurore tilted her head, supporting herself upon her hands and bringing her legs closer to her body as if to show her curiousness. 

Jacob lowered his arm and sighed to himself. “I’ve never seen anything like them, I suppose is what I mean to say.” 

She didn’t thank him verbally as he was expecting—instead, she nodded her thanks. 

“You will not speak to me?” Jacob questioned, digging into his pocket then to pull out the hair comb that was said to belong to her. Without doubt, that seemed to be the case as her eyes widened and she looked from the trinket to Jacob. “I am sure I don’t need to explain much, Aurore, but I found this last night at the scene of a crime.” 

The woman looked away, as if denying it were hers now. 

Jacob was getting desperate. He could tell she wouldn’t answer as Opal had warned. What was she hiding? Did Jack pay for her silence? Sitting near her bedside, he brought her hand close to his chest, urging her blue eyes upon him yet again. “If someone is threatening you, my lady,” the Assassin began, “then I will do everything in my power to be sure it doesn’t happen if you just tell me who orders your silence.” 

Aurora turned further from him, and it was there in that moment he noticed her blond hair had marks of red upon the strands. 

A small inhale escaped his lips at the sight, and he knew—whether she would say so or not—that she had to be the one that was there that night. “I know the lad you speak with; Jack is his name, correct?” 

Her head swerved around then and, in that moment, she moved her touch from Jacob’s as if pleading to be left alone. 

“Please, Aurore,” Jacob begged, trying to catch her gaze once more, only to be shut out completely as she denied him that request. “Someone close to me was murdered, and I need to find out who it was for I may have lost two people that night!” 

Hearing the honesty in those words, she gazed upon him then and sympathy seemed to entice her actions. Her hand upon his cheek, Aurore let the roughness of his beard play against her palm before moving her touch then to try and remove his trench coat and let him be more at rest and relaxed in the moment. 

Her touch upon his shoulders was enticing and calming as she worked on trying to ease his muscles that had stiffened. Jacob fell prey to it and lowered his head as if to accept defeat in this moment of sin. “I will pay whatever price you need, Aurore,” he murmured between them, his head soon finding rest upon her breast as if he had become a mere child needing comfort. “Just please…speak to me…” 

Jacob felt her sigh, and it was that moment a voice did beckon to him. “It was Jack who had done it,” she whispered, voice heavy with an accent he recognized. 

Hazel eyes widened, Jacob moved from her chest and gazed upon the woman. “You…You’re French…?” 

“Oui,” Aurore answered, trying to gather what courage she could for the thought of continuing. “The French and British don’t exactly get along, as you know.” 

“Thus my shock in this!” Jacob commented, his eyes widened in disbelief as he looked her up and down curiously. 

Aurore nodded, eyes as blue as the noon sky looking down at her lap before gazing to him again. “British men would pay a nice price to ‘sleep and abuse the enemy’, I wager; thus, my silence.” She slouched in sorrow. “But that is not why you’re here, no?” 

“I-umm-no,” Jacob stuttered, as he wasn’t expecting that to be the reason she was so quiet. Here, he handed over her hair comb since he got what he needed, truthfully. “But this Jack…how often has he been here?” 

“For months now,” answered Aurore quietly, as the walls did indeed have ears sometimes. “I’ve been his whore for quite awhile and dealt with whatever he’s desired to give me in—.” 

Her words were cut off as there came a harsh knock at the door, startling Jacob as well. 

“Sir Frye, I told you to keep this brief! Aurore needs her rest!” Lady Owers cried out from the other side of the door, obviously a bit impatient with the fact he was there still. 

“Five minutes more, Lady Owers, and I will be gone!” Jacob called out angrily, hating he had to be rushed as this when he finally got the woman to speak. He sighed, turning back to Aurore with a wrinkle of his brow. “I best go.” Here, Jacob dug into his pocket and pulled out a coin purse to hand to Aurore. “I will be back later when that woman is less to bother us.” Here, he took to his feet and grabbed up his coat to place back upon him. “I thank you for breaking your silence. Your secret is safe with me.” 

And with that said, the Assassin left in a hurry, not wishing to get Aurore in trouble.

 

\--

 

Jacob continued to visit the brothel in the weeks to come, getting information on that night and what could possibly possess Jack to unleash such anger on a fellow Assassin. Nobody ordered his death…so why did he assault and kill someone that was once his brethren? 

“You would be best to ask him these questions, Monsieur Frye,” Aurore insisted. “He speaks to me in earnest, oui, but not every detail.” 

Jacob remained upon the decorative bed, resting his arms under his chin as he let Aurore rub and massage his bare back. If he was going to get information, he was going to see to it that it was pleasant at least. “He would not answer to me, my lady,” said Jacob in a rather relaxed tone though the idea of Jack going rogue was upsetting. Closing his eyes as her hands gently dug into his muscles to try and calm them, he sighed in content at the sensation. “He lost his mum to Templars, and I thought it would be wise to train him under the Creed…” 

“So I was told,” she whispered at the memory when Jack spoke of it. “He told me some lad named Emmett wasn’t exactly understanding in his murdering of them.” 

Jacob’s body shook lightly as a chuckle rippled through him. “That would be my boy—Emmett Frye. Emmett is very neutral in his views on Templars and is actually very kind to them compared to the rest of us. He doesn’t see everything as black and white, but merely gray. He sees it as a war that has an even balance of good and evil on both sides, and I envy him for that thought.” 

“A positive view, that,” Aurore said, a smile tugging at the thought all the same. Pulling her hands back from Jacob’s bare back, she brought them to her chest with a soft sigh. “Admittedly, monsieur, I was always…I always pitied Jack for the hell he endured.” 

Turning his head to try and look at Aurore better, Jacob hummed in question. “Did Jack ever find out where you were born?” 

“If you mean does he know I am French, then the answer is yes.” Aurore felt Jacob’s hand on her leg then, and it was there she moved off of the Assassin’s back to let him sit upright as he desired. 

Grabbing at Aurore’s hands, he brought them close to his chest in concern. “Did he ever hurt you for it?” 

She smiled at the tender question and shook her head. “Non,” Aurore responded in French. “He is an aggressive lover, but he never hurt me for what I am. The night he injured me, it…it was an accident. He was trying to ask my silence, and my head hit the wall with force he wasn’t expecting.” 

Jacob’s fingers began to play with her blond hair, moving the strands from her face as he sighed at that thought. “I am envious that you have been spared such pains from him…” 

“He means a lot to you?” Aurore’s hand sought out his, taking his fingers to her lips to kiss upon them tenderly in hopes to sooth his pains. 

His hazel eyes watched the foreign woman closely as he moved towards her. “As a son, yes,” Jacob almost whispered upon her lips before catching them with his own to excite the idea in a kiss even if it would probably be one that was paid for. 

While caught off guard by the act, Aurore responded with a passionate and eager response of her own as her lips worked against him, tongue trailing upon his lower lip to taste of him better and make him quiver in a desire for more as Jacob found his own tongue tracing hers. 

As he paused in the act, his lidded eyes addressed her as his mouth was inches from hers. His breath was heavy from the act, but in the time he kept visiting her, his pity in her situation blossomed into love and a yearning for her companionship. “I am merely a man,” he reminded her as if to excuse his moment of weakness, Jacob’s fingers touching upon her neck and trailing down towards her breasts. “I come seeking answers, and now my body quivers for more.” 

“You are no different than the others, Monsieur Frye, so you have no reason to be ashamed,” Aurore reminded him, finding a bit of pain in that statement as she wished it were more than what it was. 

Jacob scrunched up his face at that comment as if equally wounded. “Do they wish to hold your heart too?” he questioned curiously, fingers toying with the fabric hiding her nudity from him. 

“I could not say, for I never ask…” Aurore’s voice derailed, hands moving to his cheeks to steady Jacob’s sights. “…but I can ask you if that is your wish? But you must know that my shackles to this prison will not make our love easy.” 

Jacob moved his hands to her shoulders then, urging her downward to where she rest upon the covers. Her blond hair sprawling about to frame her face, he hovered over her with his chest heaving from mounting excitement. “Should you wish to be with me, then I will show you that nobody will easily deny me what I desire,” Jacob insisted, his lips back upon hers as he began to eagerly undress her without hesitation. 

“Then let me say that I want it more than I can rightfully express,” Aurore urged, grabbing at the pants the Assassin only had in place at that moment to work on freeing him. 

As he witnessed her attempt to go right for his cock, Jacob was quick to try and stop her. “If your aim is to spoil me, love, I think it is wise we offer a trade.” 

“Then lie down,” said Aurore, moving away from him for a moment to let him get situated. “Take your rest upon your back, and I will let you sample me, while I sample you.” 

His back was comforted in time, and as he let Aurore deal with his growing erection, he grabbed at her inner thighs and spread her legs for an easier access to her womanhood he had soon exposed. “Never had a chance to sample anything of the French variety,” the Master Assassin teased, his words breathing upon the soiled pedals of her flower before he lewdly kissed upon the entrance as if desiring that ‘sample’ right away. 

Her hand clasped tightly upon his cock, crying out in delight at his eagerness for a taste of something exotic. “Y-You may become intoxicated by it, Monsieur Frye,” she panted, reaching one of her hands about to fondle and toy with his balls while her lips planted eager kisses upon his length though the other hand rubbed him from base to tip as she pleased in hopes to arouse him onward. 

Jacob nearly thrust within her throat when Aurore dared to try and take the head upon her lips in time. He was finding himself eager for more—eager to sheath himself completely within her throat if he could (as women struggled in the past). Regardless of his selfish need, he was mindful and his own tongue buried within her temple as one hand slipped around to massage and caress upon her clit in a hopes of tasting her sweet lubrication and release. 

Aurora had to be mindful herself. Arousing a seemingly sexually repressed man was dangerous as she had nearly gagged on Jacob’s motions a few times had she not pulled away in time. Her hands soon came upon his hips to steady him, and it was there she teasingly looked over her shoulder at him. “Remain still, and maybe I can deep throat you.” 

Her accented words made his heart beat rapidly as Jacob attempted to do as she promised. Sadly, he couldn’t watch her, but he could feel her tight warmth start to creep upon his length in time, and when it went past the spot most women struggled upon, his eyes widened and a swear escaped his lips. Hand upon the back of her head, he tried to steadily urge her onward. “F-Fuck…God, yes…!” he praised, throat nearly dry from the amount of panting he was doing. 

Her nose was soon buried upon his balls, and it was there she made sure he remained still as she swallowed again and again to try and coax him onward. 

Jacob’s legs tightened, the tension easily felt upon the prostitute’s hands as he arched his back and cried out in warning of his release. Her name upon the air thick with heat and desire, the rush of his release sprayed forth and ushered down Aurore’s throat. 

She tried to drink it all, but she found it to be too powerful, and it was there she threw her head back with a loud gasp, the milky white dribbling from the corners of her lips. “Quite the stallion you are…!” she complimented, attempting to wipe her mouth from the harsh climax. 

“Quite the rider you are,” Jacob panted in return, his hairy chest heaving as he tried to regain control of himself. “I’ve…I’ve never been able to sleep with anybody able to do that…!” 

Aurore repositioned herself upon the Assassin, moving to where she was face-to-face with him. Her soiled entrance began to playfully rub against his spent cock in hopes to fill him once more. “Just need to relax the throat, and it easily goes down.” The last of her words were nearly hushed as she found her lips upon his once more in an eager kiss. 

Jacob’s hands back upon her buttocks, he repositioned her to where he could slide within her without hesitation. She was already quite wet from his motions upon her earlier, and his hands grasping each rear cheek, he used what force he could to make her take in every inch of him again. 

As the intimacy with one another continued behind the closed door, it was outside the door where Jack was nearly about to knock only to stop when he heard the cries and words of excitement from Aurore herself. He was warned earlier by Lady Owers that Jacob was here, and in that moment, the Assassin felt his heart tighten and his fist follow suit. 

He had never felt betrayed as this before… Nobody was allowed to touch upon precious belongings and now, Jacob had the audacity to do, not only that, but steal her heart away as well. “Take something so precious from me, Jacob,” began Jack in warning, only himself able to hear this threat, “then I will take something precious from you…!”


End file.
